Butternut Squash Macaroni & Cheese

There is something about an afternoon spent in the kitchen that relaxes me like nothing else. That feeling of, like, almost serenity, doesn't compare to the high I get from running, the relaxation from a good massage or even the euphoria from the perfect bite of cupcake. Whirling around my kitchen like a spinning top, splattering surfaces with remnants of whatever is on my spatula, stuffing spoonfuls into my boyfriend's mouth for "tastes" (which is just code for validation), puts me at ease. Sure, I make a huge mess, I wear myself out and I end up with a sink full of dishes... But I also feel accomplished. Satisfied. Inspired. And full.

One of the things I love to do is simply open my fridge and my cupboards and see what speaks to me. Lately, my garden has been driving my kitchen activities. I have a butternut squash plant that has been going nuts, so all things squash have been coming out of my kitchen. This recipe is one that I adapted from a much heavier Rachel Ray version... And it didn't last more than 2 days before it was gone.

Butternut Squash Macaroni and Cheese

Ingredients

• 1lb penne or elbow macaroni

• 4 tbsp butter

• ½ medium onion, finely chopped

• 1 clove garlic, minced

• 4 tbsp flour

• 2½ cups milk

• 10 ounces (2½ cups) shredded cheddar cheese, or a combination of cheddar and gruyere

• 1 cup cooked, pureed butternut squash, from ½ medium squash

• ⅛ tsp nutmeg

• ⅛ tsp pepper

• salt, to taste

For topping:

• 1 cup fresh breadcrumbs or panko

• 2 tbsp minced fresh parsley (or 1 tsp dried)

• 1 tsp lemon zest, optional

• 2 tbsp melted butter

• ½ cup shredded cheddar cheese

Procedure:

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
2. Cook pasta in a large pot of salted, boiling water until al dente (for elbow macaroni, that’s about 7 minutes, for penne, more like 10). Drain and set aside.
3. Meanwhile, melt butter in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add onion and cook until softened, about 3 minutes. Add garlic and cook 30 seconds. Add flour and cook, stirring constantly, 1 minute. Gradually whisk in milk, a bit at a time.
4. Bring sauce to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce to low and cook until thickened slightly, about 5 minutes.
5. Add shredded cheese, whisking until smooth. Whisk in butternut squash puree, nutmeg, pepper, and salt to taste. Add pasta to the sauce and stir to evenly coat. Transfer pasta to a buttered 2 quart baking dish.
6. In a medium bowl, combine all topping ingredients and sprinkle evenly over pasta. Transfer dish to oven and bake until topping is golden and sauce is bubbling at edges, about 20 minutes.

Stuffed Shells

When I was younger, I wanted more than anything in the world to have an older brother. There was a boy who lived down the street, who was about a year older than I was, and he was so cool--never mind that I found out later he was moderately down syndrome. He was funny, good at video games, and most importantly, a lego architect genius. My older male cousins, too, were some of the coolest people I knew (granted, my world was pretty limited at five years old). I looked up to Steven and Kevin with adoration and respect, and not just because they each had about a decade and at least a foot on me.

My oldest cousin, Steve, would never hesitate to get down on all fours with us and play dog catcher. My cousins and I would clamor around my aunt's house, yipping and nipping at the adults' ankles, and Steve would go right along with our silly game and chase us, put us in the "pound" and make our little fantasy seem totally legitimate and real... I mean, haven't you ever seen a puppy that sports light up LA Gear, embroidered sweatpants and a lovely lady mullet? (I have my mother to thank for my stellar fashion choices in the mid to late eighties.)

Steve's younger brother, Kevin, on the other hand, wanted nothing to do with us younger cousins... Which is perhaps why we got so much pleasure out of tormenting him. He had, arguably, cooler toys than Steve (I'd venture a guess that Steve was probably beyond the "toy" phase by the time our gaggle of toddler and adolescent aged cousins came around)--transformers, legos, a miniature suit of armor... All the kinds of things that three to seven year olds really needed to be playing with. We would "sneak" up on Kevin while he was playing computer games and hiding out in the office of my aunt's house, where he instantly retreated the second we showed up for a visit. Deep down, I'm convinced he actually enjoyed our visits. I mean, who wouldn't want a bunch of squealing, pig tailed blondes invading their personal space for days on end?

My understanding of boys, brothers and where babies come from was rather limited when I was a kid. When my mom was pregnant with my younger sister, I remember people asking if I wanted a little brother or sister... What was wrong with these people? Did they not see the splendor that could be made possible by having an older brother? Someone to reach things off of high shelves? Someone to swing me around? Someone to keep the bigger cousins from picking on me (until my sister came along, I was the youngest, and easiest target)? It would have been phenomenal.

I prayed to Jesus, the Easter Bunny, Barbie and just about any holy entity I could think of as a kid. Please, please, please... Someone bring me an older brother... I'll never ask for dessert again! (Fat chance, I was a tub of lard from day one.) I'll always clean my room when asked! (Or throw a tantrum until my nanny, DeeDee, does it for me.) I'll be the best little sister anyone could ever ask for! (Clearly, I had no idea what I was asking for.)

Spoiler alert: I never got an older brother. Biology (and other branches of science, I imagine) kept that from becoming a reality for me. But you can imagine my disappointment when, at three and a half, after nine months of praying and good behavior, I was rewarded with a shiny, pink, YOUNGER SISTER. Could the Easter Bunny have gotten this MORE WRONG? There was clearly some sort of cosmic injustice happening. Maybe the kid down the street had asked for a baby sister? That was clearly not what I had requested.

I eventually got over my disappointment, although I made sure my little sister, Shannon, knew that she was NOT what I had had in mind. I did this by kicking her in the head through the mesh of her play pen, pinching her when no one was looking and essentially inflicting all sorts of torment on her. Granted, she probably deserved some of it---showing up as I was growing out of my chubby, adorable phase (and just being chubby), and giving everyone something new and cute to coddle. What a brat. A big brother never would have pulled that shit. And I bet he would have stolen cookies off the high shelf for me.

Regardless, I eventually grew to appreciate my younger sister. Having someone to beat up on and outsmart was actually rather convenient. And as we got older, we developed a strong friendship. Now, as adults, I consider Shannon one of my best friends. It took me moving out of the house and 1,000 miles away, but we get along, respect and rely on each other. We're in the same corner these days, instead of opposite ones. And really, I've come to accept the fact that a big brother is just not in the cards for this girl.... But if you know anyone with an older brother for sale? Hook it up! There are some cookies on a shelf I can't quite reach.

One of my coworkers recently (as in, like, on Saturday) had her second baby. A girl. Her oldest is a little boy. Is it normal to be phenomenally jealous of an infant? She is set for life! Not only does she have awesomely cool parents, but an older brother to boot! Life... just isn't fair.

And while my knowledge of babies and biology is really limited, I do know that infants are loud and time consuming. And generally messy, annoying blobs of human. So, in order to help my friend out (and ensure that she doesn't forget to feed the older brother, lest someone else be robbed of their dream), I put together some easy freezer meals that are both delicious and (I think) kid-friendly. Kids eat green things, right?

Stuffed Shells

adapted from Taste of Home

24 uncooked pasta shells (jumbo)
1 T olive oil
1 large zucchini, shredded and squeezed dry
1/2 lb. baby portobellos, chopped
1 medium red onion, finely chopped
2 cups ricotta cheese
1/2 cup shredded mozzarella cheese
1/2 cup shredded provolone cheese
1/2 cup grated romano cheese
1 egg, lightly beaten
1 t. italian seasoning
1 jar (24 oz) pasta sauce
1/4 grated parmesan cheese

1. Preheat the oven to 350. Cook shells according to package directions until al dente. Drain and cool.

2. Heat oil in large skillet. Add veggies and cook until tender. Remove from heat and transfer to a large bowl. Add ricotta, mozzarella, provolone and Romano cheeses. Stir in egg and seasoning.

3. Spread one cup sauce into the bottom of a 13x9 baking dish, coated with cooking spray. Spoon cheese and vegetable mixture into shells. Place filled shells in baking dish. Top with remaining sauce. Sprinkle parmesan cheese over the top.

4. Bake, unconvered, for 40 minutes. Let stand for 10 minutes before serving.

Ohana Cupcakes

In the past three weeks, I have been in seven different states, teaching at a variety of yearbook and journalism workshops. It was a hectic period of traveling, meeting new kids and advisers and being constantly on the go. When I finally made it home on Monday, I was more than ready for the short break that I will have before I'm off for my next set of camps.

I spent my weeks presenting to students and advisers about a variety of topics, including everything from interviewing and news writing to ice breakers and community building. Despite being constantly on the move and living out of a suitcase for three weeks, I loved every second of my work. Working with kids, whether they were my students or not, is always exciting and rewarding. Networking with other advisers and sharing war stories and feel good moments always reminds me why I love this profession. When I am on campus during the school year, I am the only person who really gets what I do. There isn't another teacher who works with kids the way that I do, runs their classroom the way that I do and oversees the kinds of projects that I do. In a way, that's a blessing--there isn't anyone telling me what to do, or clamoring after my job... But at the same time, it's incredibly isolating. When InDesign does weird things to your text, the school server crashes or the cameras start eating memory cards... There isn't someone next door, or across the hall, or even on the other side of campus that really understands how that impacts your work.

But being able to share my experiences and what I have learned over the years, both with students and other advisers, keeps me going. Sure, I was tired. Sure, losing my voice two days into the first camp made things a little rough. Sure, discovering I have allergies pretty much everywhere except San Diego was an unpleasant surprise... But none of that mattered. I was getting to talk about what I love, with people who get it. People who understand why pizza DURING deadline tastes different that pizza any other time. People who understand why a smile from a snotty teenager can make your day. People who know what it really means to put a project to bed.

Getting to be around so many other dedicated, hard working and motivated people recharges my batteries better than any day by the pool ever could. Since my first workshop in Kansas City, I have been flooded with emails from students and advisers, asking questions, asking me to share my resources and thanking me for reminding them that yearbook (and school) can be fun. I can't deny that I get a little teary eyed every time I read one of those emails. Knowing that drawing a pig, playing rock paper scissors or wrapping clumps of kids in saran wrap made a difference for someone else is rewarding. I have my own kind of crazy, but it works in my classroom. I know it doesn't work for everyone, but I love giving the tools to others so that they can define their own sort of chaos.

I am inspired by the ebb and flow of ideas at the camps I participate it. I get a chance, as a relatively new adviser, to rub elbows with people who have been kicking ass in the yearbook business longer than I've been alive. I get a chance to watch people work their magic with kids, getting them excited about everything--from singing "I'm a little teapot" to going nuts with the "Interlude." I get to see a kind of passion that is, sadly, missing from my day to day work environment. Yearbook people are special people. We're a bunch of crazy weirdos, but we get each other. We support each other. And we get damn excited about fonts, picas, kerning and margins with each other.

Despite the fact that camp after camp after camp is exhausting, I'll never stop doing it. I'll never give up the opportunity to watch others inspire students, or to be inspired by them. I'll never stop sharing my resources or my ideas. I'll never stop loving what I do--because it's never the same. It changes every year, with every new set of kids. Every time I think I have a recipe for a perfect year figured out, I hear a new idea from someone at a workshop, and my mind is blown.

I don't think there is a perfect way to build a yearbook staff. I don't think there is a perfect method for working with teenagers. But I do know that my summers are perfect, just the way they are... Crazy, busy, hectic, frazzled... And inspiring. Not only do I get the opportunity to inspire kids far beyond the confines of my classroom, but I get to work with folks that I have an incredible amount of respect for, and who I look up to.

Since I started advising, many people have taken a chance on me. It started with my administration, being willing to let a new teacher juggle both yearbook and newspaper (on top of an English load). Then my yearbook rep pushed for me to teach at my first workshop--which required a good amount of faith on her part, and a huge leap of faith on behalf of the workshop coordinator. From there, pieces fell into place. JEA allowed me to work with students through their conferences. Other camps opened their doors to me. Other people saw me teach and told me they were impressed, inspired. And that motivated me. It motivated me to keep going, keep doing what I was doing, and keep working to make it better. It's been an amazing experience so far, and I am so grateful for what I've been able to do, because it has made such a difference for the kids in my classroom. From my supporters from my yearbook publishing company, to my fellow advisers, to their students... All of these people have become my extended yearbook family.

Just as I am inspired by my fellow teachers and their students, I am also inspired by other bakers, bloggers and photographers. I follow several cooking blogs, and when I need inspiration or ideas, they are the first place that I look. When I need an idea to run with, I know I can check a few sites and have a meal planned in minutes. I know that my circle of blogging bakers will always come through when I need a recipe... In a way, they've become my virtual, constantly available, kitchen family.

So what better recipe to share than one, to me, says, "Family"? I made these cupcakes to take to yearbook camp last week, so that my Yerd Family could have a homemade treat to enjoy before all of our craziness ensued. The recipe is one that I adapted from one of my fellow baking, blogging diva contacts, so it's a perfect marriage of things I love coming full circle. I've changed the recipe a bit, given it a new name and made something delicious in the process. Just sharing the love for, as Stitch would say, my "Ohana."

Ohana Pinapple Cupcakes

photo provided by cupcakegarden.com

Epic fail on my part... I forgot to take pictures before everyone ate them.

Pineapple Cake:

• 2 cups all-purpose flour*

• 1 1/2 cups sugar*

• 1 tablespoon baking powder*

• 1/2 cup non-fat dry milk*

• 1/3 C. melted butter, cooled

• 3 eggs

• 1 1/4 C. crushed pineapple with juice

• 1 tsp. vanilla extract

• 1 tsp. lemon extract

*These ingredients can be omitted if you would prefer to just buy a box of yellow cake mix. But that is totally cheating and I will judge you for it.

Cream Cheese Frosting:

• 1/2 C. butter, softened
• 8 oz cream cheese, softened
• 1 tsp. vanilla extract
• 3-4 C. powdered sugar
• Dried pineapple for garnish

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees and line pans with cupcake liners.
2. Sift dry cake ingredients into a small bowl and set aside.
3. In a large bowl combine butter, eggs, pineapple and vanilla extract. Mix on high until fluffy.
4. Stir in cake mix until smooth.
5. Fill cupcake liners 3/4 full and bake for 17-22 minute or until and inserted knife comes out clean.
6. Let cool.
7. Frosting: Beat butter and cream cheese for 2 minutes until smooth. Add vanilla extract and slowly add powdered sugar until you reach your desired consistency. If it becomes too thick, whipping cream.
8. Dollop onto cooled cupcakes. 

Chicken Taco Soup

After being gone for about ten days, and knowing that I only had a few precious days at home before my next stint of traveling, I had an overwhelming urge, from the minute I walked in my front door (at 11 PM, mind you) to BAKE ALL THE THINGS. COOK ALL THE THINGS. I just wanted to revel in the glory that was my kitchen, food readily available and of my choosing. Not a hotel catering service. Not a dining hall. Not Easy Mac, stirred with a car key and eaten with a dorm swipe card. 

Before I left, I had embarked on a breakfast adventure--treating my boyfriend to delicious, boozy cinnamon rolls, baked from scratch and topped with a gooey, cream cheese and bourbon frosting. I'd even had the foresight to freeze half the batch and leave him baking instructions, so he could make them on his own without me (obviously, this was a ploy to keep him from getting upset about me taking off for nearly two weeks). This confectionary masterpiece became dubbed as "special breakfast," and it precluded my desire to COOK ALL THE THINGS. You don't get the recipe for that... But it's an important part of this story. That's why I'm telling you. That, and I'm a little bit of a tease.

In another attempt to keep my boyfriend from hating me, my job, my commitments to camps around the country and my inability to say no to a teaching offer, I left presents. Presents and notes. For each day I was gone. Yes, its nauseatingly adorable and you're throwing up in your mouth a little. It's ok.  I would be making gagging faces at myself right now, if I weren't so head over heels in love with this boy. There is some adage that says something about having to have survived the worst to be able to appreciate the best. I've written off my past as an experience I needed to have. A painful, challenging, horrendous learning experience. And now? Now I know that I have something good--someone who cares about me, appreciates my ambition, supports my decisions and balances me. Proof:

Special breakfast was reciprocated. After being gone for what felt like forever, my first morning back home consisted of french toast (from REAL french bread), mimosas and absolutely no work on my part. Watching my boyfriend feverishly stir cinnamon into cold milk, visibly frustrated that it wouldn't dissolve, scrolling through his recipe on his iPad... I melted a little. He was willing to step in to my realm, try his hand at something that I love doing, just to make me feel special. And while I have known for some time that this boy was special, there was definite confirmation that morning.  I felt lucky. Content. Happy. And it was ok that, other than a quick trip to the store, we spent the entire day doing nothing. It's not my MO, but it felt good. I could revel in a day of laziness, because I wasn't going to have to pick up the slack later by myself. 

I have gotten used to taking care of myself. I have needed to know that I can fix things, do things, manage things on my own. But in the past few months, I've slowly gotten comfortable NOT having to do them on my own. My boyfriend may not be an expert on fixing sprinklers, but we figured it out together. He may not be super jazzed to mount my TV or fix a loose hinge, but he'll do it. He may not love to cook, but he'll get up and make me breakfast because he knows I'm exhausted and worn out from traveling. He'll do things not because he wants to, not because he gets anything out of it, not because he has some ulterior motive... He just wants to make me happy. And that makes me the luckiest girl in the whole world (insert gagging noises here). 

And in return, I want to do everything, be everything, bake, cook and clean everything, embody everything that perfect should be. I know what it feels like to be unappreciated, and I want to make sure that I never make another person feel that way. I can't help but have some guilt about my summer spent jumping around from one camp in one city to the next. Being gone for a total of almost an entire month doesn't seem like a thing you do for someone you really care about. So naturally, when I am home, I want to DO ALL THE THINGS that I can to demonstrate my appreciation. 

I've always considered my kitchen abilities to be something of a gift. I just have a knack for throwing things together that work. Which is surprising, because I don't understand any of the science behind it and I often screw up the math. But it still works (further proof that math and science are unnecessary). And as someone with an overwhelming need to help others (hence for years as an RA), putting my gift to work and feeding people is a natural outlet for me. So when we started talking about dinner ideas, after Special Breakfast #2, I knew that this recipe would be a winner. First, it has beer in it. I mean, who doesn't want beer with their dinner? Second, it all goes in a slow cooker... So I could spend the whole day finishing our two bottles of champagne and orange juice, while dinner cooked itself.

Chicken Taco Soup

• 1 red onion, diced
• 1 (16 oz) can chili beans, drained
• 1 (16 oz) can black beans, drained
• 1 (16 oz) can corn, drained
• 1 (8 oz) can tomato sauce
• 1 (12 oz) bottle of beer
• 1 (10 oz) can diced tomatoes with green chiles
• 1 packet taco seasoning
• 3 whole boneless, skinless chicken breasts
• 1 jalapeño, diced
• 1 red bell pepper, diced
• 1 green bell pepper, diced
• 1 t cayenne
• 1 t garlic salt
• 1 T minced garlic
• 1/2 cup chicken stock
• 1/4 cup cilantro

1. Place all ingredients in a slow cooker, except for the chicken. Stir well.

2. Submerge the chicken breasts in the other ingredients (make sure they are covered).

3. Set slow cooker for low heat and cook for 5 hours.

4. Remove chicken breasts about four hours in. Shred. Return to soup for one more hour.

5. Serve with sliced avocado, crushed tortilla chips and queso fresco.

Cilantro & Lime Sauce

Standing on the stage at James Madison University last weekend, I was staring out into an auditorium full of shiny high school faces... And I didn't know a single one of them. It was a weird feeling for me--to be at yearbook camp, without my kids, getting ready to kick off a weekend of Yerding without the crowd I'm used to doing this with. And for some reason, I was overcome with such crazy self-doubt that I wasn't sure I was going to be able to get through my opening presentation. Maybe my skills don't translate across the country?

Of course, I was being silly. Insecure. I just lost my footing for a minute--a temporary stumble, but I caught myself. I lead things off with a loud (as loud as I could be after losing my voice for the 5th or 6th time in two weeks), "If you can hear my voice clap once..." call out, and we were off. We drew pigs. We made funny faces. We did things in a minute to win it. We ate candy for breakfast. We made it rain. And we yearbooked. A lot. And learned. A lot.

There was one evening, the last night of camp, I think, when I was lounging in the computer lab with one of my fellow instructors and a sales rep from Baltimore. We were chit chatting, talking about all the weirdo kids you find at yearbook camp and in your classroom, and one girl (one of the aforementioned odd balls) came up to ask me some questions about the writing class I had taught earlier in the day. I went over her notes with her and when I was done, she just smiled and said, "Thanks Ms. Young. I learned really good from you. You've got good styles and I think my writing is going to be more better."

The irony of her compliments were not lost on me, but it still melted my heart a little bit. I'm used to being in a classroom with kids for months before I can get them to worship the ground I walk on and hang on every word. But this girl felt like I had made a difference for her in just a few short days. And despite the self doubt that I had felt at the start of camp, I felt invincible. If I can get kids to nerd out on font and page design and King Pica and Adobe Kuler during their summer vacation, then I'm on the right track. It doesn't matter WHERE the kids are--Orange County, San Diego, or the East Coast--I know how to get through to them, even without cupcakes.

And sometimes, I get that same feeling when I tackle a meal in my kitchen. I don't always know what I'm doing when I start out, but somehow, it all comes together in the end. And I might still be unsure of myself, even as I dish it out... But all it takes is one compliment, one "yum," a second helping and a smile for me to know that I did it right. I do know what I am doing in the kitchen, despite not having any sort of actual training (other than watching my dad when I was growing up).

I watch cooking shows (probably more than I'd like to admit), and I think that it is something I would like to try. But then I watch the contestants fillet a fish, or do some sort of fancy mousse or crazy recipe from their memory and I just don't think I can hack it. But when I'm presented with my own mystery box and a flavor that I want to create, I  manage to nail it. Maybe I do have what it takes.

This sauce is something I threw together, while watching Master Chef, and making tacos. After being gone for 10 days, I was itching to cook so I wanted to make everything. As I was setting out the bowls of chopped onions, peppers, shredded chicken, cheese and cilantro, I realized that there wasn't any sauce or salsa. Needless to say, problem solved...

Cilantro & Lime Sauce

• 1 cup fresh cilantro
• 1/4 cup greek yogurt
• 2 T miso paste
• 2 T olive oil
• 1/4 cup lime juice
• 1/4 large avocado
• 1 t garlic salt
• 1 t pepper
• 1 t cayenne

1. Toss in blender/food processor/magic bullet. Blend until smooth.

2. Top your favorite festive dish... Fish, chicken, tacos, chips, etc.

Lemon Dill Potato Salad

Growing up in Smalltown, USA, there are things that inevitably made their way into my life, for better or worse. I've been told before that tiny towns every where are exactly the same. There are certain staples that you would find in Podunk, Oregon that would also surface in Backwoods, Louisiana. From one small town to another, you'll find friendly faces, neighborhood block parties, a crunchy vernacular and staple foods.

It seems that in any small town gathering, at any neighborhood cookout and at 4th of July and Memorial Day, Labor Day and summer BBQs around the country, you'll find tables laden with flavors of Americana. Apple Pie. Burgers. Hot dogs. Macaroni and cheese. Corn on the cob. Berry cobblers. I can get behind most of these things (ok, except the ones made with meat). But there is one cook out staple that I will never understand: potato salad--the mayonnaisey, creamy, buttery kind. How do people eat that? I mean, if that was the flavor and texture you wanted, why not just squirt some mayo on a celery stick, ants on a log style, and go to town? That's basically what you're getting.

Even in my days (ok, decades) as a fat kid, I never loved the flavor of mayo, whether it was smeared on a sandwich or dolloped all over perfectly good potatoes or macaroni. As I've learned to cook, and been able to tailor my dishes to flavors that I like, I've been able to experiment and create--much to the joy of my tastebuds (and the scale).

So, while this recipe may contradict all the things we know about what potato salad is, that doesn't make it any less delicious. I've learned, especially in the last few months, that the commonly accepted prescription for "perfect" isn't always right. Sometimes you have to take what works and run with it--whether it follows your timeline, schedule or BBQ checklist, or not. When it works, it works, right? Don't question it. Just love it.

Lemon Dill Potato Salad

Adapted from Food Magazine

2 pounds rainbow potatoes (regular ones work too, but the colored ones are so much more fun)
1 cup celery, diced
1 cup red onion, diced
1 lemon's zest
2 tablespoons capers
2 cups kale, deribbed and sliced into ribbons
2 tablespoons garlic, minced
1/4 cup olive oil
3 tablespoons lemon juice
2 teaspoons dill (fresh preferred)
1 teaspoon smoked sea salt
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon black pepper

1. Heat water to a boil.
2. Wash and cut potatoes to uniform size, about 1/4 inch thick.
3. Boil potatoes until they are tender. Drain and transfer to a bowl.
4. Stir the celery, onion, capers and kale into the potatoes.
5. Whisk together the remaining ingredients.
6. Drizzle the lemon and olive oil mixture over the potato mixture. Toss to evenly coat.
7. Refrigerate until ready to serve.

Chocolate Chip Pudding Cookies

There are some natural combinations in life that just work. Peanut butter and jelly. Mac and cheese. Sunshine and flip flops. Romey & Michelle. They are duos that have roots so deep that trying to separate them just doesn't make sense—they go together (cue the closing dance scene and music from Grease). These combos have become ingrained in the way we pack our lunches, they ways we survived the poverty of college, the way we dress ourselves and the way we define our friendships.

Even if mac and cheese or a perfect beach day aren’t in your repertoire, chances are you have pairings of your own that have come to define the way you do things.  Something feels wrong, out of balance, if your duo isn’t complete. Your mojo is totally out of whack if you don’t have the perfect shimmy to go with your shake.

When you are introduced the perfect pairing, it’s like an epiphany. How did harmony ever exist before this combination was defined? It’s one of those things that you didn’t know you needed—but now that you have it? There is no chance you could live happily without it.

Not every match in my life is material. As I’ve mulled over this idea of sweet harmonies, I’ve realized that the concept extends far beyond my culinary, pop culture and fashion realms.  My personal life is full of things that I didn’t know that I needed, but now that I’ve experienced them, I’m not sure I can survive without them. My friends run the gamut of personality types, from over protective and motherly, to something of a loose cannon here and there. And each one of them offers me something, some aspect of themselves, which I can’t live without.

Since the Fall I’ve seriously struggled with understanding who I am and what I want. I made a lot of choices in my personal life that I wasn’t proud of, but I was not thinking long-term or practically. I was thinking, ‘What will make me feel better, right now?” I guess I was an embodiment of the instant gratification generation. I didn’t want to wait to heal. I wanted my life to implode, to sweep up the pieces into a tidy pile, forget it ever happened and instantly go back to being Jess. I didn’t need to grieve, or process or recoup… Or so I thought.

Turns out, running full speed ahead, without a break, without a breath to process, without time for yourself means you basically slam into a brick wall that you never saw coming. And that hurts. Probably more than what set you off running in the first place. I hit that wall after the New Year and I realized that if I didn’t chill the fuck out I was going to miss out on the chance to let something good happen for me.

What I had to realize was that I needed to LET it happen. I had to get out of my own way and for, probably the first time in my adult life, stop planning everything and just let my life happen to me. I needed to experience my own life, instead of driving it. And once I accepted that I can’t plan for every what-if scenario and guard myself against every emotion I may experience, good things started happening.

And now? I’ve discovered all kinds of things that I didn't know I needed in my life, but now they have the perfect place. You could say I have all the things I knew I wanted (and deserved), plus all kinds of bonus stuff. And the bonus stuff? It’s the best part.

When things finally go right, after they've felt wrong and forced for so long, it’s better than an epiphany. It’s like taking a huge breath, when you didn't realize you’d been holding yours in for who knows how long. You don’t always know that it’s right, until you stop trying to figure out what it is and just let it be. And then, if you’re lucky, the pieces fall into place… And you find yourself happier than you knew you could be, with your life going in a direction you never fathomed you’d have the courage to face again.

Relationships aren’t supposed to be hard. Connecting with another person is supposed to be sort of a basic instinct, right? We want companionship. So why do we make it so complicated? Why do we concoct a complicated formula for what should really be a simple, perfect pair? And when we finally find that match, why question it? Let it be. When you find that one thing that you didn’t know you were missing, but suddenly you have and can’t imagine life without? Don’t fuck it up.

I’ve had this recipe for chocolate chip cookies for ages. I’ve understood the concept of a cookie since I started baking in middle school. But I never found the perfect balance of ingredients until I started playing with this recipe. And once I stumbled across the addition of pudding to the mix, I realized I had a winning combination. And I don’t mess with that. You never knew you needed pudding in your cookies, but once you have it, you’ll never turn back. The chocolate chips are just the bonus stuff.

Pudding Plus Chocolate Chip Cookies

Adapted from Allrecipes.com

Ingredients

• 4.5 cups flour
• 2 teaspoons baking soda
• 2 cups butter, softened
• 1.5 cups brown sugar
• .5 cups sugar
• 2 (3.4 oz) packages instant pudding mix (whatever flavor you fancy... I usually use vanilla or butterscotch)
• 4 eggs
• 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
• 4 cups chocolate chips

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
2. Sift the flour and baking soda together. Set aside.
3. In a large bowl, cream the butter until light and fluffy. Add the sugars.
4. Beat in the eggs, one at a time.
5. Add the pudding. Blend in the flour mixture.
6. Stir in the chocolate chips.
7. Drop cookies by rounded spoonfuls onto an ungreased cookie sheet.
8. Bake for 9—12 minutes.